


The House Of The Rising Sun

by ClementineStarling



Category: Our Friends in the North
Genre: M/M, PWP, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-04-01 20:51:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4034146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClementineStarling/pseuds/ClementineStarling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Nicky gone to New Orleans, Geordie finds himself in need of a new best mate...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The House Of The Rising Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, I admit it's a bit weird to write smutty fanfic about a series that's 20 years old and takes place even 30 years before that; also because probably no one will ever read it. But it's hardly my fault this plot bunny bit me as I was watching my way through Mark Strong's oeuvre. And annoying as plot bunnies are, I could not have it scampering around my head forever, so I gave it what it wanted, a micro-ficlet/smut-scene.
> 
> In case someone does drop by who's actually seen the series (rather improbable, but you never know) -- so, in the first episode the relationship between the characters Nicky (Christopher Eccleston) and Tosker (Mark Strong) is basically determined by being rivals for both the affection of their respective best friend Geordie (Daniel Craig) and the love of Nicky's girlfriend Mary (Gina McKee). So one could say that (at least in the very beginning) Geordie and Mary fulfil pretty similar roles in the narrative. As an irredeemable slasher I cannot help but assume the relationships of Geordie and Nicky and Geordie and Tosker to have been romantic in one way or another (at least as some sort of adolescent homoeroticism), so well... this happened. 
> 
> Partly inspired by Tosker's line in episode one: "Mary, you are the most unbelievable person I've ever met. Because usually I don't feel like this about g-- Em. In fact I've never felt like this about anybody.”
> 
> Takes place in 1964, somewhen before Nicky comes back from the US.

“You're bloody mental”, Tosker says and takes a swig from the beer bottle, but the spark of excitement has already settled in his hazel eyes, Geordie can see it clear as day. It's another evening they've spent hanging out on the bed in Tosker's tiny room – as they have done so often over the last months when Geordie's had to seek refuge from the tempers of his damn drunkard of a father. They've spent whole nights listening to records and talking about the rock stars they will be one day, and the girls they would shag. A lot of the conversation usually centres around sexual frustration, young lads that they are, always randy, and there never seem any girls around who well... see to that, and it is this night that Geordie has finally worked up the courage to offer... or suggest; he doesn't know what exactly, but at least he made himself quite understood as it seems.

“Come on, man, isn't rock n roll about tearing down all boundaries?”, he presses on because offence is the best (and sometimes only) kind of defence and – just for good measure – throws Tosker his cigarette pack as a peace offering. His friend takes out a fag and lights it, the smoke like a fucking halo around his head, before he answers with another question.

“So, was it Nicky who put you up to this shit?” Tosker's voice is a bit slurry but that don't mean his brains don't work anymore. Of course, it is late, they're drunk, and pretty stoned too, and even though Nicky's been away for weeks now – God knows if he'll ever come back – somehow his shadow always hangs over them. At least that's how it feels. Even now.

“And if it was, does it matter?” Geordie says who knows quite well how Tosker always strives to surpass Nicky in any sort of craziness, and he's laid out the snare accordingly. Seems he's already caught his mate in it like a fucking bunny rabbit. Nearly too simple. He doesn't say anything, but that only means, Geordie's good as got him.

“Can't tell me, you've never even thought about it”, he says and reaches out to push a strand of hair out of Tosker's face, who does not even flinch but only stares back at him. God, these darn eyes. It's half an eternity till he shrugs. No denial. Geordie's heartbeat quickens.  
“You're afraid then?”, he dares without averting his gaze. No way back now.

“Nah”, Tosker says and grins, and then the improbable happens, the thing Geordie has fantasised about for months, ever since Nicky's left and Tosker kind of took over his place as his best mate: he leans in and his hand curls against the back of his head and their mouths crash together. There is not much finesse in it, but they make up for that by sheer enthusiasm and quite a lot of tongue and teeth.

It takes no time at all for Tosker to push his hands under Geordie's shirt, those clever musician's fingers which immediately stir the simmering burn of arousal in the pit of his stomach into a sharp blaze, a fever heat that spreads into every last corner of his body, and he returns the favour, eager to touch skin, to see for himself if those lanky limbs and wiry muscle feel as good as he imagined them to feel.

“Like this?” Tosker breathes against his lips, the cheeky bastard, as he puts his hand over Geordie's hard-on, and he groans the answer into his mouth: “Yeah. Just like this.” He's not expected his friend to go this far, not really, but he should have known that once he started, he wouldn't stop half way, that's Tosker, that is. Stubborn like a bloody pitbull. And only too willingly he lets himself be peeled out of his trousers and revealed to a curious gaze: brawny and golden haired and hard as he is.

“Geordie”, Tosker whispers, something like bewilderment in his voice and perhaps hesitation, and Geordie's not sure what to make of it, but he is quite certain that he won't survive, if Tosker stops touching him now, so he just shuts his mouth with another kiss and hurries to rid his mate of his clothes, too. He is dark where he himself is fair, and lean, boyish even, where Geordie has already the body of a full-grown man, but the contrast excites him even more. He doesn't dare waste too much time on marvelling at Tosker's body though, still afraid his mate could change his mind, if he doesn't get on with it. But it turns out just as he's hoped – as soon as he's wrapped his hand around Tosker's cock, every doubt is forgotten. Everything is forgotten, it seems, and Tosker arches into his touch, so greedy for his caress, and so beautiful, so bloody beautiful as he gasps for air, eyes wide, frowning as if he was surprised of the sheer pleasure of it.

Geordie rolls him onto his back and leans over him and kisses him until they're both breathless, and then he puts his hand around both their cocks and strokes and pulls and it's so good and even better, and when they're both trembling with pent-up tension, and he fears they cannot last much longer, he only presses himself against Tosker and drags his blunt body over his sharp angles and lean muscle, their cocks squeezed between their stomachs, and swallows all the stifled moans that fall from Tosker's lips, while they move together, falling into a rhythm without the slightest bit of an effort, like it's a song they're playing together. Perfect harmony. It takes no time and it takes forever, and when they come, the seed and sweat sticky between them like the best glue of friendship one could imagine, for one short blissful moment everything is just alright and free of shame and guilt and embarrassment.

Afterwards Geordie's never quite sure though whether they'd been ever so keen on coming _inside_ a girl (and so careless for that matter), if it hadn't been for this thing between them. As if only fathering a child would rid them of the suspicion of being a poof...


End file.
